


Hallelujah

by strathspey



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angry TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Mentioned Wilbur Soot, No Romance, Other, TommyInnit Has PTSD (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit glitches, TommyInnit is an anomaly, TommyInnit song-fic, TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Traumatized Tommyinnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, all those characters after tommy? they're just mentioned, he's not technically supposed to be on the smp in this au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:42:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29412117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strathspey/pseuds/strathspey
Summary: Even the wind that whipped around him could never hope to drown him out.Drown out the pain that was reciprocated with tenfold of what he caused.Drown out his sorrows.Even the rain could never hope to match him.----aka a song-fic based on Leonard Cohen's live in London version of Hallelujah because this has been on my mind since November and the song fits Tommy so well.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 9
Kudos: 82
Collections: Completed stories I've read, MCYT Fic Rec





	Hallelujah

**Author's Note:**

> this is just me wanting someone to write something to this damn song for tommy because it genuinely fits him really well

The sun laid low while the storm clouds flew high. One would call it peaceful.

He could call it dreadful.

The sound of the birds. The whistle of the wind. All of it. All of it reminded him of Logstedshire and of L’manberg. Hell, even the music coming from somewhere in the distance prodded at him. Music. The one thing that no matter where he went, what he did, who his allies were, was always taken from him.

With Wilbur… Wilbur had gone insane. There was no music. The disc had long since shattered.

Phil.. Philza and Technoblade were just like Wilbur. No disc to remember the origin but rather pieces of a shattered vinyl.

“ _Now_ , _I’ve heard there was a secret chord that David played, and it pleased the lord. But you don't really care for music, do you?”_

At least there was Tubbo. Tubbo. His own special disc, held in his ender chest. Held with pride. Broken but not unplayable. Just some scratches. Tubbo. His Tubbo. A song with his own special melody. A song he himself could never hope to recreate. But that was fine, he didn’t really want to.

But Dream didn’t… Dream didn’t care. He was 9 and he was forced to face off against some omnipotent _god_. Lost the thing he cared for. Died twice and ended up in some glitchy, inky, white room.

_“It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, the major lift, the baffled king composing Hallelujah."_

The melody was bitter. It tasted like lemons and salt and water. Salty lemon water. His L’manberg. A constant above all. Gone in an instant and with it the song. The song his brother wrote so many years ago. Before he was... before he was gone. Even his sneakers on the wood reminded him of music.

He could never have music, though. Not even his own. He tried to make his own in Logstedshire but Dream took it away. Just like everything else. Burnt to a crisp in an explosion. An explosion of anger and regret. An explosion of pain and suffering. An explosion with just a stick of c4.

_“Hallelujah, Hallelujah. Hallelujah, Hallelujah."_

The cold had set in by now. Just like the snow in some far away place. And with that faraway place came fear of being watched. Being sent back and sent away. Back to wherever he came from before a wingless bird found him.

That wingless bird gained wings once. He looked quite mighty with them, soaring above all else. Soaring above the home he created for the three of them. But all too soon the wingless bird was forced to fall. He was the second to forever die in front of him. A powerless ram and a wingless bird. Unsurprisingly, he himself could have been the third.

Even a wingless, flightless bird had taken flight. Why couldn’t he?

_“Your faith was strong but you needed proof. You saw her bathing on the roof, her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you.”_

His house barely held any warmth inside of it. Sure, it held warmth but not family warmth. Not what he had when he… when? God, had so much shit happened that he forgot where he even came from? Even the laugh that fled him matched his thoughts. How bittersweet that the boy who lost everything hoped to have something.

Even though the night set in and the sun had disappeared, he still had not returned home. How could he? He would have just been cold. Like every other night. Like in the ravine. How could he when he would wake Tubbo up screaming at the thought of him being... being gone? That was unfair to the older. For he needed his rest far more than he himself did.

_“She_ _tied you to a kitchen chair, she broke your throne and, she cut your hair and, from your lips she drew the Hallelujah.”_

If Sapnap heard him getting louder or the sound of wet cries somehow making their way in as he walked, he said nothing. He knew what the boy felt. He saw how everyone blamed everything on him, even if he did it too. Some things were just taken too far.

If Sam saw him sitting up against a tree with his head tucked between his knees, he said nothing. He knew why. Dream told him what he had done to this poor boy, even if he hadn’t told him everything. There were far too many wars and history to that child’s name.

_“Hallelujah.”_

God help any poor soul that walked past the boy.

_“Hallelujah.”_

The boy who had gotten so used to taking the blame, he just said it was him that did anything wrong.

_“Hallelujah.”_

The boy that had everything stolen from him when he was only 9.

_“Hallelujah.”_

The boy with no past and with no future.

_“Now, maybe there is a God above. As for me, all I've ever learned from love is how to shoot at someone who outdrew you.”_

He knew he was getting louder. But he didn’t care. They deserved to know. Deserved to know what? The pain they put him through? He was his own catalyst and had no one to blame but himself. But that wouldn’t stop him. Wilbur always said don’t bottle shit up. And Dream wasn’t here to yell at him if he got too loud.

_“But it’s not a cry you hear tonight, it’s not some pilgrim who claims to have seen the light, no it’s a cold and very broken Hallelujah.”_

L’manberg was gone.

Wilbur was gone.

Dream was gone.

Even the world didn’t want to stay put for him. All he could see was glitches. But he didn’t care. He didn’t care that he didn’t belong and never would. This is where he’d stay.

_“Hallelujah.”_

He’d stay among the trees and the flowers.

_“Hallelujah.”_

He’d stay hidden where if anyone came to look for him, they’d fail.

_“Hallelujah.”_

Fail like him. Fail like L’manberg.

_“Hallelujah.”_

Fail and fall into the confines of whatever routine they created when he was gone.

_“Hallelujah.”_

The routine he suddenly uprooted like they did with his when Tubbo– when Dream– exiled him. The routine he suddenly uprooted when he— when Dream— blew up the community house and pinned it on him. The routine he suddenly uprooted when.. when he caused Doomsday.

_“Hallelujah.”_

He could almost be convinced this was some hallucination. just like what he had in L’manberg. Just like in Logstedshire. Just like when he was a kid.

_“Hallelujah.”_

Even the feeling of fuzziness over his body felt like a hallucination. A sick prank. Perhaps caused by Dream in a bout of anger. He wouldn’t put it past the man.

_“Hallelujah.”_

He couldn’t put it past anybody for wanting him dead. Not Niki for trying to lead him to a nuclear test site. Not Dream when he threatened his final life in exile. Not Technoblade after the Green Festival. Not Wilbur after the Civil War. Not even Tubbo for whenever he dragged him into anything.

_“Well people, I've been here before. I know this room and I've walked this floor. You see, I used to live alone before I knew you."_

The tree swayed underneath the force. Wood creaked under heavy feet. Leaves rustled and moved with the wind and so did he. 

Even as the anger erupted from his chest in a belt and even though the fuzziness began to overtake his body, did he not stop walking. Not until he reached L’manberg. Not until he reached the ruins of his home so frozen in place.

_“And I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch, but listen love, love is not some kind of victory march! no, it’s a cold and it’s a very lonely Hallelujah.”_

Nobody saw the specks of color that faded in and out of his body.

_“Hallelujah.”_

How could they?

_“Hallelujah.”_

After all he was just some anger filled teenager on a server filled with hybrids.

_“Hallelujah.”_

Some anger filled teenager who no one knew where he came from. 

_“Hallelujah.”_

Or why he was here to bring nothing but destruction. For all they knew, he could have been a hybrid himself.

Only as he walked and even seemingly beamed across the path did they see the way he glitched.

Glitched so unnaturally. Like a computer virus stuck in some makeshift compartmented file.

“ _There was a time you’d let me know what’s really going on below, but now, now you never even show it to me, do you?”_

Any file would do. Even if that file was nothing but a mirror.

No one told him who was next to backstab him. Just like no one told him when the mirror would be smashed with him inside. There was always someone he caused some sort of pain to. Just like with the shards of glass in Tubbo’s hand. Next thing he knew, Sam would blame him for the egg. That stupid fucking egg that had no effect on him. Just like Dream did when he was trapped.

_“I remember when I moved in you, and the holy dove, she was moving too, and every single breath that we drew was Hallelujah.”_

After the wars.. after the wars, those which he won and those which he lost, he gained nothing. Nothing but more distress to top off his already mountain high, crumbling pile. Scars he once thought looked so cool on Technoblade now littered his body. The power he once thought they had no longer there. Not when they took most of his hearing. Not when they took most of his sight. Not when they took his breath away too many times.

It’s not like anyone noticed when he would zone out, only to focus on the ringing so painfully there behind his ears. Like a buzzing bee. Always there and even when it wasn’t it would come back tenfold. Even when it was out of sight, it could never be out of mind. Just like Wilbur when he… when Philza… it was out of sight but never out of mind.

And as the chrysanthemums floated away with the wind and the pond rippled with a wanderlust gone so unnoticed, had the rain began to fall around him. Merely sprinkles. Nothing more and nothing less. But still enough for him to look up. Still enough for the water collecting on his face to mask the already fallen tears. Still enough to remind him of his brother. Just enough. Just enough for minor tears to come to a full on sob. And as the sob ripped through his throat, had he smiled. Smiled for his brother.

_“Hallelujah.”_

Smiled for his assumed father.

_“Hallelujah.”_

Smiled for his best friend.

_“Hallelujah.”_

Smiled for his new friend.

_“Hallelujah.”_

Even the smile he had gained was so quickly ripped away as the memories came flooding back. Memories he had no urge to be reminded of. Memories he had no urge in having in the first place. Memories that reminded him that he was nothing more than a story book that someone else was having too much fun writing. A story book that someone else wrote. He was never in control. He never would be.

A loose cannon. Just like Wilbur said. That's all he was.

A liar. Just like everyone said. That's all he was.

_“I’ve done my best, I know it wasn’t much. I couldn’t feel so I learned to touch. I’ve told the truth, I didn’t come here just to fool you.”_

Looking over the pond, watching as it fell from a waterfall into a crater, it only gave him the same sense of wandering he had back in the snow. The snow that felt warm and soft against his skin. The snow that fell so elegantly, so differently than the rough rain that fell around him. But the rain was just like him. Unrefined and messy. No place in which they belonged. Just fell wherever they pleased and called it home.

Just like glitching into a place he had no right being in.

_“And even though it all went wrong, I’ll stand right here, before the Lord of Song, with nothing, nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah.”_

And when he clasps his hands together and looks down into the water does he see nothing but an angry child. Angry at a world he had every right yet no right to be angry at. And when he held his arms out and looked to the sky, he looked as if he was screaming. Screaming every pain and ache out of his body. Screaming out every right and wrong he had done. Screaming out his every sorrow.

_“Hallelujah.”_

Every sorrow that would cause even the hyacinths to be jealous.

_“Hallelujah.”_

Even the rain couldn’t drown out his pain.

_“Hallelujah.”_

But even so, it seemed to match his woe.

_“Hallelujah.”_

It knew what he missed.

_“Hallelujah!”_

What he yearned for.

_“Hallelujah!”_

It knew he yearned for a peace he could never have.

_“Hallelujah!”_

It knew he yearned for a final dance with his brother.

_“Hallelujah!”_

What he yearned for? He yearned for a childhood that was ripped away from him. He yearned for a place he could belong with a family that didn’t abandon him at every turn. A place he could call home with a family he could call his own. A place where he could feel safe without fear of someone hearing him scream in the night and using it against him. A childhood that wouldn’t cause him to worry about when the next war was. A childhood filled with love and joy. A family not filled with people with superiority complexes. A place filled with the smell of hot cocoa and peppermint.

A place to belong.

_“Hallelujah!”_

That's what he yearned for.


End file.
